


Just Another Morning

by finx



Category: Leverage
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Gen, Multi, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:29:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24167392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finx/pseuds/finx
Summary: A baby turns up on the doorstep. Provenance unknown.
Relationships: Alec Hardison & Parker & Eliot Spencer, shippy if you squint a lot
Comments: 14
Kudos: 70





	Just Another Morning

It was Eliot who found the baby. He woke early every morning, to set the bread to baking, go for a run, and stop by the farmer’s market for fresh ingredients. This morning when he came back, there was a baby at the door of the brewpub.

It was wrapped in blankets and placed in a cardboard box, and it was fast asleep. Eliot stared at it in consternation for a few seconds. Then he put down his groceries, opened the door, and took the baby inside.

* * *

When Parker clambered down the wall from her bedroom and swung through the back window some twenty minutes later, she found Eliot chopping carrots, with his laptop open on the kitchen table. “Baby food?” she asked after a glance at the screen, hopping up to perch on the table next to the computer. “Is that a food genre?”

Eliot didn’t startle, though she’d been utterly silent. Parker wasn’t sure if it was even possible to startle Eliot in his kitchen – he was too relaxed. “For the last time,” he said without turning around, “they’re not _‘food genres,’_ they’re cuisines. And no, baby food is not a cuisine, but babies have very particular dietary needs.”

Parker nodded thoughtfully, having never considered the diets of infants before. “Do you think we’ll have a lot of baby clients at the pub?”

At that, Eliot did turn around. “What? No! It’s a _brewpub,_ Parker, why would we have—though I guess people do come in with kids sometimes, and if we had more options for a simpler palate…” He trailed off, considering additions to the menu. Parker swung her legs smugly.

Eliot shook himself, shelving the thought for later, and pointed with his knife. “That was outside the front door.”

The ottoman from the sitting room had been dragged in front of the warm stove, and on top of it was a cardboard box. Parker frowned at it, then took a few steps over to peer inside.

She stared at the sleeping baby for several minutes before asking, “Are its hands supposed to be that small?”

* * *

When Hardison dragged himself downstairs, he found Eliot showing Parker how to hold a bundle of blankets. It took him several seconds of bewildered blinking to realize that the blanket bundle did, in fact, contain a human baby. He looked from Eliot to Parker in half-asleep befuddlement, too tired to formulate a coherent question.

“Eunh?” he asked instead. Eliot and Parker glanced over at him in surprise. When he was more awake he would realize what it meant, that neither of them had heard him clump down the stairs or noticed him standing in the doorway, and be touched beyond words, but for now he just stared at them.

“Someone left it outside,” Eliot explained. “No note or anything.”

“I’m naming it Dana,” Parker added. “It’s gender-neutral.” She moved her head slightly to follow Hardison as he stumbled to the kitchen table and dragged over Eliot’s computer. The rest of her was as still as a statue.

Hardison typed in Eliot’s password and pulled up the camera feeds for the brewpub. “Dammit, Hardison,” Eliot muttered, and Hardison belatedly remembered he wasn’t supposed to know Eliot’s newest passwords. He grunted in vague apology and started scrolling back in time.

“You’re allowed to move,” Eliot told Parker. She frowned at him in what might have been suspicion, but gingerly sat down, in one of the chairs this time. The baby chose that moment to squirm around in her arms. Parker froze in terror.

“They do that sometimes,” Eliot assured her. “It’s okay, you’re doing great.”

Hardison snapped his fingers to get their attention and pointed at the screen. Parker looked a little panicked at the prospect of walking over to look at it, so he turned the laptop to face her, and Eliot leaned down to look over her shoulder.

The figure on the screen was dressed in a shabby brown coat and a large, floppy hat. They walked with a stoop, making it hard to guess their height, and kept their head ducked the whole time, hiding their face. “Not a lot to go on,” Eliot muttered. “They knew where the cameras were.”

Parker nodded, but she was frowning. “Zoom in on the box,” she said. Eliot tapped at the mousepad, and his eyebrows went up. Parker grinned, satisfied. “They did leave a note.”

Hardison spun the laptop back around. Sure enough, there was a white rectangle perched precariously on the edge of the box. “Wind must have blown it off,” Eliot said as Hardison hit fast-forward. “Dumb way to leave a note – why didn’t they tuck it in with the baby?”

“Flowerpot,” Hardison rasped. He turned the laptop to show Eliot where the note had fallen: between the wall and the large ornamental flowerpot by the door, the one that held a huge rosemary bush and several listening devices. Eliot nodded and vanished down the stairs to fetch it. Hardison shambled over to the fridge. If they were going to figure out this baby’s origin story, he was going to need some orange soda.

“Dana’s waking up,” Parker said, alarmed. “It’s waking up, what do I do, _Hardison it’s starting to cry.”_

It was barely fussing, but Hardison reluctantly put down his unopened soda and crossed over to Parker. “S’okay,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder and trying to make his voice soothing. The baby’s face was all scrunched up, and Hardison found himself irresistably compelled to reach in and boop her gently on the nose. “She’s probably just hungry. Rock her a little, I’ll see if there’s any food.”

“Eliot’s making baby food,” Parker informed him. Then she started moving her arms stiffly from side to side in front of her.

It took Hardison a moment to realize she was, technically, rocking the baby. He bit down on a laugh. “No, babe, I meant – just bounce her a little.”

Parker drew back in horror. “You can’t _bounce_ a _baby!”_

Hardison stared at her, uncomprehending. When it finally clicked, he couldn’t hold back the snort. Parker wrinkled her nose, affronted, and Hardison dissolved into helpless laughter, collapsing into the chair next to her.

Parker narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion, clutching the baby protectively. Hardison laughed even harder.

He was still draped across the armchair and giggling when Eliot came back upstairs, note in hand. “Says here the baby was kidnapped for ransom, and now the parents have gone missing. Baby-dropper got him away from the kidnappers, but doesn’t have anywhere safe to hide him.”

“Could have at least left a phone number,” Hardison groused as he took the note from Eliot, who went over to mix one of several pots simmering on the stove. The note was in ballpoint pen on cheap printer paper, no leads there. “I’ll check missing persons, see what comes up. Eliot, you still talk to that guy who does food for the daycare centers?”

“Salim, yeah.” Eliot dug up a spoon to taste what looked like carrot soup, made a face, and went digging in the spice cabinet. “I’ll see if he can ask around, but this one’s pretty young for a daycare.”

“I’ll try hospital records, then,” Hardison yawned, already tapping at Eliot’s computer.

“Perfect.” Parker grinned. The predatory gleam of it was all the more raptor-like when the rest of her was so carefully motionless. “Let’s go un-steal a baby.”


End file.
